


Tales from the Creative Writing Class

by Onus_Probandi



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, me: writes fanfic, teacher: dont write fanfic, the first story is a 24hr store au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 03:04:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17480009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onus_Probandi/pseuds/Onus_Probandi
Summary: A collection of stories I write in my creative writing class.Story one: Sandalphon meets an odd stranger who might also be the love of his life.





	Tales from the Creative Writing Class

When Lucifer Primarch walks into his life, it’s nothing that’s been portrayed in the movies and romantic comedies he cynically picks apart with his roommate and convenient best friend. The meet-cute is anything but cute as Sandalphon, the front of his apron stained with a mystery white stain that could either be mayo or...actually mayo is right, he corrects himself as he tastes the smear as he recalls this incident in the _overwhelming_ privacy that is the breakroom of the 3/11. But he still can’t help the giddy smirk that’s glued to his lips in the place he’s likened to retail hell especially when he has to work the day shift with everyone from Karen and her twelve kids turning the store into a bombed out mess of chip packs and mystery sticky stains on the floor that, of course, he had to mop up. But this massive hellscape is nothing compared to the gentle smile on Lucifer’s face as he tosses countless snack cake after candy bar onto the counter on top of the three bottles of orange soda.

Sandalphon has watched him before this moment, but only in an “are you stealing all that or are you stealing?” way since the small set of bells his manager brought in as a replacement for the alarm they used to have, rang. But when he actually smacks the first armful of honey buns onto the counter, he actually notices him, and the fact that he’s never seen this beautiful man in this small, rundown, end of the line town says a lot. He studies the gentle angles of Lucifer’ face, the shock of white crowning his head and sky blue eyes set in a pale face. He’s young, maybe about Sandalphon’s age but maybe a touch older judging from how tall he is. Not saying much, considering that Sandalphon tops off at 5’6” on a good day with heels and hair, but Lucifer is topping 6’2”. God, he’s cute in all the right ways and that sucks.

Sandalphon bites his tongue to prevent himself from spitting out the worst kind of word vomit that you can spew at a stranger and focuses on ringing him up, stacking the Ho-Hos on top of the Ding-Dongs.

“That’ll be....uh $38.92,” as he shoves his hand into a plastic bag, Sandalphon uses his free hand to tap on the register, “cash or card?"

The guy rifles through his pockets for his credit card, pulling out something blue and possibly way above Sandalphon’s financial bracket, obviously uncomfortable with the chip reader as he stares blankly at it for a few seconds until he receives a prompt.

“Card.” His voice has a gentle accent to it that sounds faintly Australian, smiling at him with a soft blush across his cheeks. At least he has the decency to look embarrassed at the forty dollar purchase of nothing but refined carbs and salt, but its cute in a way. His skin is too nice for this to be a routine of his, but who knows how much concealer this guy has slapped on under his hooded shirt?

Sandalphon zones out as he tries his damnest to find new angles to look at this guy from without being extremely creepy (too late), only coming back to reality when the guy taps on the glass.

“Wh…?” Sandalphon blinks, the world coming back into focus behind his glasses. “Y-yeah?”

“Lucifer.” When Sandalphon doesn’t respond beyond a spaced-out gaze, Lucifer elaborates, “my name. Apparently, this is the only 3/11 in the area, so we’ll be seeing a lot of each other….um?”

He thinks of being the cheesiest kind of suave and say something stupid like, “whatever your last name is,” but all he can pull out of his maw is a stutter of his name. "S-S-Sandy!"

“Sandy.” Lucifer seems to think its funny judging from the way his eyes crinkle up at the edges a little, but just enough to mar his perfect face and make him gloriously flawed. “Like the cookie?”

It’s a stupid joke he’s heard about billion times throughout middle school, each with more malice than the last, but for some reason, he can’t help but grin back at Lucifer for the innocent prod.

Sandalphon has a past history of leniency reserved for the cute ones.

Gathering about ten bags into his hands, Lucifer makes his way out of the small convenience store, his smile layered and meaning lost by the chime of the cheap bell hanging over the door and the beat of Sandalphon’s heart on his sleeve.


End file.
